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“Who are you?” The guy rights himself, loosening his tie and rolling his shoulders.
“I’m Raga.” I flick my wrists. “Nora’s fairy godfather,” I say, aware now is not the time for fun. I need to check on Nora, but first, I must take care of this pompous piece of shit. “So how is this going to go down?” I swing my backpack around and pull out the zip ties. “You going to make this easy on yourself?” I drop my bag on the floor and tap the zip ties against my palm. “Or”—I smile, seeing the answer in his eyes—“are we going to dance?”
“Oh-ho.” He rolls up his sleeves. “We’re going to dance, motherfucker. I’m a great dancer.” He shifts on his feet, holding his fists in a fighting position.
Shaking my head, I cram the zip ties into my back pocket. “That’s what they all say.” I walk toward him. “Until they get on the dance floor.” I haul my arm back.
The front door swings open. My eyes snap to Chosen standing wide-eyed in the doorway. My dance partner gets a sucker punch to my face.
“Shit!” I rub my chin, stepping back before the abuser gets another punch in. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I-I—Lix!” Chosen points as if I need the warning.
My head turns. I bend down and grab the asshole, flipping him over my shoulder. His back smacks hard onto the floor. I drop to my knees, throw him onto his stomach, and grab the zip ties.
Chosen rushes over to Nora.
I get the asshole’s hands bound and glance at Chosen. She’s checking for a pulse. “Is she…?”
“She’s breathing,” Chosen rushes out.
“I’m going to kill you,” the abuser starts yelling threats. I reach for my bag and pull out the duct tape.
“Good,” I say to Chosen, slapping a piece of tape over the asshole’s mouth.I glimpse at Chosen. “Don’t touch her.”
“But—”
I hold up my hand. “Just give me a sec.” I bind the fucker’s legs, bend and tie them up close to his bound wrists. “Okay.” I swipe my bag from the floor and move to Nora and Chosen. “Here.” I crouch down closer to Nora. Chosen slides back, giving me room. I grab a smelling salt, crack it, and put it under Nora’s nose.
Nora shakes her head, pushing my hand away. Her eyes open, and she blinks a few times.
“Nora. It’s okay.” I search her eyes, waiting for the confusion to wane. “You called the domestic center and asked for me to come?”
She studies me for a few seconds, glancing at Chosen and then at her abuser.
A short chuckle vibrates from her. Then another, until she’s hysterically laughing. “I’m so-so-sorry.” She tries to sober up and points with her eyes to her hog-tied abuser on the floor. “Di-did you do that to him?”
“Yeah.” I chuckle. I get it. Sometimes laughter is better than breaking down and crying. “He can’t hurt you.”
Her lips quiver, stifling another laugh.
“Nora.” I pause, waiting for her to look at me. “Do you know what day it is?”
“Tuesday,” she says and not asks. It’s a good sign.
“Do you remember calling the domestic center?”
“Yeah.” She nods, laughter now cleared from her voice.
“Okay, good. Can you move your legs?”
She looks down at them. “I think so.” They bend slightly at the knees. “Yeah.”
“What about your arms?”
She slowly lifts them, opening and closing her hands. “Yes.”
“That’s good. Do you think you can sit up? Stand?”
